Phantoms Now
by Glory For Sleep
Summary: He was a ghost. She might as well have been one. They were both invisible. Nonexistent. Transparent. Unconsidered. Unmentioned. Unthought of. Like ghosts. Like dreams. Like they were every day; until their nightly conversation was over. Giratina/Latios


Hey peoples!

Oh meh Arceus. This took me forever to plan out, but at least I got it out faster than I thought I would. Well, this is my entry for the GiratinaxLatias/Latios bug that's going around. Seeing as how I've always imagined Giratina being a female, I wrote GiratinaxLatios.

I attempted a writing style that I have not used in a while for this. You know, the style where the characters' names aren't mentioned by the narrator? I dunno - I love that style for some reason; it makes everything so mysterious and poetic. Gahyuk. :D

I used this to dwell into the characters of Latios and Giratina, so, yay, character development. I just hope this makes sense and you understand both their problems. And yeah, I know it's short; but hey, you're all used to me writing long chapters for things so - bleh.

Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pokemon, or "Phantoms Now" by Armor For Sleep.

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**Phantoms Now**

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-ooo-

_Invisible – like a ghost._

A sigh escaped her lips.

_Nonexistent – like a dream._

His ghostly eyes flickered to the ground.

_Transparent – as if their own names weren't even important._

They both allowed a look of depression to cover their faces.

Unconsidered.

Unmentioned.

Unthought of.

She turned her eyes to him, his ghostlike figure allowing her gaze to see the ebony walls of Turnback Cave through his apparitional flesh.

He cocked his head to the side so the serious look that covered his own sight met hers.

They both remained silent, allowing the words just spoken between them to sink in.

The day had been no different, filled with the loneliness they had grown to expect because of the similar days before.

Every morning she would get up, the ghosts that haunted the cemetery within the deserted Turnback Cave being the only entities to greet her. She would continue with her duties among the council, guiding lost spirits to the Afterlife, watching the gateway to the Underworld, and serving as the embodiment of death, because that's what she did – the things no one ever wanted to be involved in, or praise.

The things no one ever wanted to consider; mention; think about.

She would be alone throughout the day, her efforts never being thanked for by the other Legendaries, because they weren't considered to be 'charitable' things that deserved attention - like Groudon's ability to forge new land for species advancement, or Dialga's duty of keeping time running correctly so the world wouldn't be lost to permanent paralysis. Everyone would assume she wanted to be alone since she always put on a façade of a tough loner, though she would only do so because her work required it – because being around such gothic, depressing things as lost souls envying for life once again had forced her to build a wall of solitariness to help deal with the said matters.

Unconsidered. Unmentioned. Unthought of.

Every day she would live among the Legendaries, and every day her presence would go unnoticed, as if she never existed.

As if she was invisible; as if she was just a ghost.

And his days were no different.

Every day he would watch his sister, Latias, sleep, requiring no sleep himself, and when she awoke he would follow right behind her like the overprotective brother he had been. Latias would continue with her daily duties of watching over the Venetianlike town of Alto Mare and its cherished treasure – the Soul Dew – and she would occasionally move outward to visit the other Legendaries. He would be right behind her, though she would never realize it, because he was an actual ghost, having sacrificed himself a while ago to save Alto Mare, and he had yet to leave the world; he never wanted Latias to be out of his sight, despite that she had moved on herself.

Despite that she had moved on from considering; mentioning; thinking about.

His sister would always tell the other Legendaries how she would dream of him every night – of their days together when he was still alive. However, she soon would drop the subject when the other Legendaries comforted her, and he would yet again be reminded that he would never be anything else but a nightly vision. He would always tell himself that it was for the best – that it wouldn't be right for his sister to waste away her own life dwelling on his death; but, at the same time, he would shed a tear, because he wanted her to know that he was still there; because he wanted to be alive and with her; because he wanted to be able to be seen as more than just a dream.

Unconsidered. Unmentioned. Unthought of.

Every day he would haunt among the Legendaries, and every day the memories of him would remain mentioned as only dreams, as if he never existed.

As if he was nonexistent; as if he was just a dream.

They both brought their heads up to gaze upon Turnback Cave – like two lost souls that could do nothing else but haunt the places they went. The day had indeed run like the ones prior – with her being invisible, him being nonexistent, and they both returning to the somber pits of Turnback Cave as they always did at the end of every day. Being the escort of ghosts, she was the only one who could see and speak to him, and she was the only one he could relate to; their problems were practically the same:

He was a ghost.

She might as well have been one.

They were both invisible and nonexistent. Transparent. Unconsidered. Unmentioned. Unthought of.

Like ghosts.

Like dreams.

Like they were every day – until their nightly conversation was over, and the words of comfort from each other had finally finished sinking in.

And that would be when he would turn his head to her, his ghostly voice following. "Giratina?"

She allowed her eyes to meet his. "Yes, Latios?"

"Thank you."

He put on a smile and slipped his claw onto one of her large ones, and her gaze brightened slightly as she felt the coldness of a ghost's touch warm her shadowed heart, her usual renegade expression of seriousness giving into one of bewilderment.

He would always end the conversations they had every night with those two words, and a smile would always rest on his snout in the process. She would blink, not used to the idea of being thanked for anything, though she would soon smile as well, because he thanked her every night for comforting him, as she did with him; their problems yet again slipped away beneath the bond they had formed since his death – since they had started to find support in one another.

The apparition flashed her one last smile, stating that they would do this again tomorrow night as they always did, before taking off down the tunnels, course set on Alto Mare so he could watch his sister sleep like the guardian ghost he was. She allowed her smile to linger, as he was doing with his, and that would always be the time of day when they both didn't feel alone.

When they both didn't feel invisible or nonexistent.

When they both didn't feel transparent.

When they both didn't feel unconsidered, unmentioned, or unthought of.

When they both would remember that their presence was still noted; that they weren't alone; that they had each other, and their late-night conversations that would come after a long, struggling day of depression and loneliness always made it all worth it.

She was the ghost that would keep him company.

He was the dream that would keep her hopes alive.

They both were the phantoms that would haunt together.

And they wouldn't want to have it any other way.

-ooo-

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**The End**

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Wow, angst burger in the beginning.

That all made sense, though, right?

I'm actually quite happy with how this came out. What do you guys think?


End file.
